Bow High and Arrow Loaded
by Birgitta Snyder
Summary: "While most people are weakened by challenges and heartbreak, Carol has gained strength from them. An abusive ass of a husband, a zombie apocalypse, the death of her child, the loss of numerous friends, lost in a dark prison alone… it has made her fiercer, into a fighter, and someone I can rely on, respect, and want by my side." (Daryls' POV, ch 7)
1. You'd Better Not Be Dead!

Darryl is my favorite character and I really like the relationship that he is building with Carrol. Please, do NOT let her die! Please!

Review if you agree, Birgitta

**You 'd better Not be Dead!**

I never would have thought. I never could have imagined. I thought she was safe. I had ensured that she was safe, always keeping her away from the worst of the encounters. But, then they came out of nowhere, streaming out of the prison building like a swarm of blood thirsty bugs. I wasn't the only one running with panic and fear, trying to get to them. Rick, Glenn, and I; we all have someone to lose.

By the time we reached the gate, they had fled into the building and there was no way for us to know where they had gone… to know if they were alive. I kept my bow high up on my shoulder, ready to shoot off an arrow but I didn't know if it was going to help her. I couldn't see her. I didn't know where she was. I had no way of knowing if she was alive, dead, or a walker.

Walkers… I hate them, every single one of them. They might have been people at one point but once they are bitten, or die since we all carry the virus, they are no longer who they used to be. All traces of humanity is wiped out and all that exist is the hunger for flesh. I have had to kill people I've known because of the virus. After such acts, you numb. You have to numb yourself or you go mad. You distance yourself and let nothing get to you anymore.

I've had plenty of practice. Growing up, the only attention I ever got was a slap, a fist, or a belt. Basically, whatever the old man was in the mood for is what I was dealt. I pushed all feelings away or hid them deep down inside. Crying didn't help so why bother. Sure I could have told someone but that wouldn't have done any good either. Everyone had their own shit to deal with. Besides, most of them thought the same thing; that a little beating would do a kid good and that it would make me tough.

And, it did make me tough and what I was forced to learn as a kid has served me well. Early on, I learned how to hunt and gather food. I learned how to survive on my own. I learned how to disconnect my feelings. I'm good with my bow and the bow doesn't care if the target is animal or people… if you can call them people. Putting it plainly, I'm good at killing things. Walkers might as well be called things and, truthfully, I don't even hesitate to kill a person if the time calls for it. Perhaps it was all meant to be; this Walker business. In a 'normal' world, I never would have fit in like I do. I'm good at killing and I don't mind it… any other time and place and I would have been locked up in a prison such as this one, and not hiding out in one with good folks like Rick and Carol.

Carol…

I had my defense up, guarding myself and shutting everyone out. But, something did get past my shield. It started with a little girl and then her mom. It wasn't supposed to happen. Still, looking back, I curse myself for letting it happen. I let my guard down and I cracked open the door to my heart just slightly. She slid right in. And, I let her because… Hell, I don't know, cause I was an idiot, cause I was horny, cause I was tired of being cold at night, or maybe cause I didn't want to be so damned lonely anymore. Everyone seemed to have someone… except for me. And, now she might be dead. Before she and I even got to hit it off.

'_Damn Walkers,_' I curse. '_You'd better not be dead!'_

Rick and Glenn slides into the darkness of the prison and I follow right behind them; arrow loaded and ready.

'_Hold on, baby!'_ I think, praying that she is alive and safe. '_I'm coming!'_


	2. Run, Carol, Run!

Carol's POV as she is trying to survive.

Like it, review. Thanks, Birgitta

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

**2. Run, Carol, Run!**

'_What was that?_'

My head snaps around by the sound of a soft bang. My whole body is on alert. I'm alone, in a dark prison, with countless of Walkers. What's worse… I'm out of bullets. I have no way of defending myself. Why didn't I have Daryl teach me how to shoot the bow? All that time at the farm and I never asked him. I should have asked him. He would have shown me.

'If I get out of here,' I promise myself.

Making plans for the future is helping me calm down. I can feel my breathing and heart rate slowing just slightly. Seeing T-Dog die the way he did; sacrificing himself for me. I understand why he did it. He could feel himself changing because of the bite but still… He saved my life and I will forever be eternally…

'_What was that?_'

I hold and listen, the scare once again running amok with my body. This time, there is no doubt. They are coming!

I run, not sure where I am going, but I run as fast as I can while checking each corner and every turn. Behind me, I can hear them heaving and moaning. It's what they do. Dead and rotting corpses forcing unnatural movement because of their lust for human flesh; they disgust me and I want to kill every single one of them. They took my beautiful daughter, turned her into one of them, and now she is forever gone. I hate them!

If only Daryl was here. He'd take care of them. It doesn't matter how many. Arrows, bullets, slash with his blade… he'd take care of them all. If he was here, he'd save me.

'_But he is not here, Carol, so move_!'

My subconscious and self-preservation is yelling at me to stop dreaming and act. Daryl can't help me. I have to help myself. I take a left turn and at the end of the hallway, there they are; more of them. There is always more of them.

I whip around and head down the hall way with Walkers at my back and Walkers coming at me to the right. I run for there is nothing else to do. Doesn't matter where, just run! My heart is pounding so loudly, I can hardly hear their eager moanings. It's a blessing for I detest the sounds they make. It was the last sound my daughter made before Rick put a bullet in her.

'_Sophia… my beautiful Sophia… my little girl._'

Tears fall as I run, splashing against the floor and against the walls, yet I run, I run, for there is nothing else I can do. Up ahead, I see a closed gate into a cell floor.

'_Please, God, let it be open.'_

I am praying which I have not done in a long time. Doesn't seem to be any use since God as obviously deserted us. He let this happen, took away my daughter, allowed his creations to become walking dead…

Not slowing down in time, I slam hard against the gate and my body screams in protest. Ignoring it, ignoring the pain because survival comes before injury and ache, I reach up with trembling fingers and place them on the handle. As I pull, I pray once more to a God who has clearly deserted us.

The gate creaks and swings open. Shocked, not thinking it would, I stand frozen until their sounds of dragging movement and hunger alerts me to act. Despite shaking and trembling, I manage to close the gate and secure with a bungee cord. Daryl gave me the cord. He told me I might need it.

'_How had he known?_'

It must have been his survival instinct, his gut. Daryl is always thinking one or two or three… steps ahead. He hasn't said much but he had a tough childhood and was taught early to take care of himself. It has helped him survived, has helped us to survive, yet I feel for him. No child should have to raise themselves like he had to. I think he was beaten too. We have that in common, Daryl and I, getting beaten; Daryl by his pa and me by my husband.

'_Bastard,_' I say in my head as I think of my late pathetic excuse of a husband.

But, he got his; first by a Walker and then by me. I couldn't risk him turning. At least, that's what I told the others. Only Daryl saw; how I went at him and how I didn't just ensure he wasn't going to turn. Oh no, I finished him off good. Daryl never tried to stop me or judged me. Frankly, I believe from that day on, he saw me differently. It was the beginning for him and I.

I remove myself from the gate, hoping they might forget that I am here and move on. The cell block seems empty but I ain't taking no chances. On the second floor, with view of the gate, I shut myself inside a cell. I'll be able to see all from here; the Walkers and possible rescuers. He is coming for me… isn't he?

The unspoken question hangs in my head from an instance, threatening to create even more tears, until the answer comes to me like a gut feeling, an instinct, an absolute knowledge;

'_Yes, he is coming! Bow high and arrow loaded; he is coming for me.'_


	3. There's always Hope even in Hell

Not sure where I am going with this. Clearly, the preview shows Daryl taking off on his bike. But this is FanFiction, so I am going to make up my own progression while we wait for the next episode.

Don't let us down, Daryl. Go save your woman!

Like it, review! Thanks, Birgitta

Disclaimer; all rights to story & characters belong to AMC

**3. There's always Hope… even in Hell**

Two shots and they're down, never to walk again. But it's too late. Disconnecting our heart from our brain, another bullet is put into T-Dog. There can't be any empathy. There's no room for that, here and now. Yet, not all feelings are disconnected.

I glance down and I see it; Carol's scarf. Without a word, just a quick exchange with Rick, I pick it up and weigh it in my hand. Rick knows, as well as Glenn, without me having to say it. Rick's Lori and Carl, Glenn's Maggie, and my Carol (Yeah, that's right, I said my), they are all inside this prison somewhere and they are not alone. We don't know how many Walkers there are but there are enough for us to dread the worst. Lori is pregnant and Carl is just a child. He has had to grow up fast. Still, he's just a kid. Then, Carol. With T-Dog dead, it means that she is alone. She had a gun but guns run out of bullets. And, once she's out…

This prison was supposed to be our sanctuary. It was supposed to be our new farm, where Lori could have her baby and all of us could try to live some kind of a normal life. Shit, we should know by now that there is no such thing as normal, at least not for very long.

No time can be wasted on mourning T-Dog. Perhaps later, we can come back and give him a burial. He deserves at least that, especially because of what he did for Carol. With her getting away, I'm assuming that he saved her by trying to hold the Walkers back. He was a good man, T-Dog, and he will be missed.

We get back out to the court yard where Hershel and Beth are waiting. They're it. No one else has come back out which means that they are still in there; alive, dead, or Walker. If Carol has turned, I'll have to have Rick do it. I wouldn't be able to. In this hell, Sophia and Carol have been my only lights.

Sophia is gone. I searched for her for months. There wasn't a moment when she wasn't on my mind. I had been so sure that I could find her and bring her back to her mother. Then Glenn learned about the barn. We never would have thought. I can still recollect perfectly how she stumbled out of the barn, grunting and staring at us all with dead eyes. Carol tried to run for her and I had to hold her, hold her off. She would have died with Sophia if I would have let her. I would have lost them both that day.

Rick had to kill Sophia, put a bullet in her head. I couldn't do it, just as little as I could kill Carol now if she's turned Walker. Most things, I can disconnect and shut out… most things but not all.

Feelings don't come easy for me. I reckon I can blame that on my pa. That bastard loved his six-pack in the cooler more than he loved me. And, Merle wasn't much better. I was his little brother who he used, toyed with, and beat on whenever he was lazy, bored, or pissed. He got a beaten from pa and took it out on me. At least for a while, then I got real good with the bow, blade, gun, and fists. He quit his shit after that. It wasn't only because I could defend myself and take revenge. He also began to respect me. I wasn't just a waste of space little brother anymore. I actually held some value and could do some good… if you can call it good. We did some bad stuff Merle and I, some real bad stuff. I always thought I'd eventually end up in prison. Didn't think I would willingly hide out in one and hope to make it a home. The irony!

"What about T? Carol?"

"He didn't make it," I answer Hershel, thinking back to T-Dog's half eaten body.

"That doesn't mean that the others didn't," Rick retorts, refusing to give up hope.

I agree. Until we find a body, there is always hope. They… she could still be…

All our heads snap up and we prepare to kill as we hear movement behind us. Out of one of the prison buildings, Carl and Maggie exit. In Maggie's arms is a bundle, something wrapped in blue cloth. Rick begins to walk towards them and a warning voice in my head urges me to hold him back. Something is wrong. Someone is missing… Lori.

Once she gets closer, we can all see. Wrapped in the soiled fabric is a baby. Lori has had her baby. Rick stumbles and begins to move around erratically. In front of us, he slowly falls apart as he realizes, as he understands.

"Where is she? Where is she?" He asks even though he knows.

Lori is gone, dead, no more.

Carl appears solid, incapable of shedding tears like his father. What he has seen and had to do, no child should have to. Was he there when his mother died? How will this affect him?

I stand back and watch, unable to offer support. What is there to say? What is there to do? It is too late… at least for Lori. But, Carol might still be alive. There may still be hope for Carol. I will search for her, like I searched for Sophia. I pray that the outcome will be different.

Bow high and arrow loaded, I march off, leaving a broken Rick on the ground. I can't console him, I can't help him, and I can't ease his pain. Glenn catches up with me and I nod in agreement. He is coming with me. Maggie is next and Glenn shakes his head no. I look behind me and the baby is now resting in Beth's arms.

"No, you are not coming with us," Glenn says, afraid to lose her like Rick has lost Lori.

Despite the tears and the heartache, Maggie holds her ground. "I've lost Lori. I'm not losing Carol too. I'm coming!"

There is no point of arguing and there is not a second to waste. Focused on one thing, find Carol, the three of us head back into the darkness of the prison. I take the lead for I hold no fear for my own safety. I can handle myself. It's Carol who I worry about. By now, she is most likely out of bullets. I should have given her a blade or shown her how to shoot the bow. But this isn't the only regret.

I've been keeping my distance, never letting her know and never telling her, and now it's probably too late. I didn't even get to kiss her, not once. If I find her alive, human, that's the first thing I'll do. No matter what or who is watching. That's a promise.


	4. Too Beautiful for this Place

Not perfectly following last episode.

Hope you like it. Looking forward to tonight's episode. I know you are too.

Birgitta

All rights belong to AMC

**4. Too Beautiful for this Place.**

"Daryl, we have to go back. The baby…"

The cry echoes thru the prison halls, bouncing against the cement floors, walls, and ceilings. Maggie is right, the baby needs to eat. His mother is dead and there is no one else to breastfeed. Where I grew up, there was always someone who could feed a baby from her breast. Placing another's child to your bosom was as normal as changing a diaper. But that was at home and then. Here and now, it is different. There are only two females left in our group and one is practically a child herself.

"We would have found her by now. You know this."

'_No, not Carol… please no.'_

Yet, Glenn speaks the truth. It's hurt, burns like hell, but he speaks the truth. If she was alive, we would have found her by now. She wouldn't have gotten far without T-Dog. No bullets, alone, and barely any training. I was born and raised for this kind of hell. I've kept my bow high and arrow loaded since a child. There is little I can't handle.

"We have to go back. Get the baby some food. Daryl, come on! We need you!"

Maggie is pleading with me and even though my heart is screaming no, one foot after the other steers to the outside. We follow the hungry cries of an infant all the way to the court yard. Rick is still on the ground, unable to face what has happened and do what needs to be done. I have lost as well. I've lost Carol, yet I do not let it immobilize me. No good will come of grieving and falling apart. If we let ourselves crumble, more will die.

With Rick no longer able to lead our group, the responsibility falls to me. I suppose I've been expecting this to happen. As much as I look up to and respect Rick, he has been unstable lately. Lori's death just sent him off the edge and I wonder if he will ever find his way back to sanity again.

I straddle my bike and Maggie climbs on behind me. Glenn objected to her going, thinking it not safe. The scare is still in him. He had thought her lost. Out of the three of us, he has proven the only lucky one. His woman is still alive while Lori and Carol are gone.

My fingers grip tighter around the bike handles, making my skin stretch and whiten. I bite it together, refusing to lose it like Rick has. Carol is gone but I can't let that effect my decisions and actions. I have responsibility and I don't take responsibilities lightly. I used to, when I was an idiot hanging around my big brother. I'm a better person now, despite all the killing I've been doing. Who knew that a zombie apocalypse would turn me into better and more decent human being?! God sure has some screwed up sense of humor.

A few miles down, Maggie and I find a daycare with both diapers and formula. I even shoot off an arrow into a possum. No matter the loss and heart ache, eat you always have to. I am pragmatic by nature. It is usually something I take pride in… but not today. There should be tears. Carol would have cried for me. I know she would have.

'_Am I an ass because I ain't?'_

The baby is still screaming when we return. Wanting to feel a warm body against my skin, I reach for him and cradle him against my chest. If carol was here, she would have been the one to take on the role as a mother. She was a wonderful mother. I used to watch her and Sophia from a distance; the way they talked… smiled… touched… showed how much they loved each other. I wanted that, I wanted that for myself, even in a world full of flesh eating zombies.

The sound of Lori's and Rick's baby boy suckling at the formula is beautiful music. He is eating, getting stronger, and becoming a part of our small family. That is what we are; family. We have lost today, but we have also gained.

As night moves in, I walk out through the gate and down to the newly dug graves. Only one grave holds a body. Rick has disappeared into the darkness of the prison to foolishly look for Lori's body. No one was able to stop him and perhaps it is not our right to stop him. He loved her and he must come to terms with her passing in whatever way his mind can manage. Sometimes insanity is the path to sanity. I myself have walked down such roads and found my way back.

I pick a flower growing in the prison field; such a beautiful thing is such an ugly place. The flower reminds me of Carol. Just like her daughter Sophia, Carol was too beautiful for this place and this hell we are forced to live in. God must have seen this and called them both home.

Heavyhearted, yet no tears falling, I place the flower on her empty grave and return to the group. I will need my sleep, if sleep will come. Tomorrow, the search will continue for Rick, Lori's body, and for Carol. Carol is dead. There is no way she can have survived. Unfortunately, it is not a peaceful death. Not the kind of death God would have wished for her. She may be a Walking Dead and in that case, I might have to be the one to deliver that peace.

I pray that I will be strong enough.


	5. Good and Bad

Thanks for reading. Like it – Review.

Thanks, Birgitta

**5. Good and Bad **–Carol's POV

I wake up, not sure how long I have been asleep. Even though I had tried to stay awake, I had known that sleep would eventually take me. Sleep will come, whether you want it to or not, eventually. The windows at the top, small in a row, tell me that it is early morning. When I dozed off, it had been all black. Inside me, there is gratefulness and hope mixed with disappointment and despair. I am alive in a new day. Yet, at the same time, Daryl isn't here. He didn't come. I'm still alone… in a dark labyrinth… with an unknown number of Walkers.

I carefully open the cell, ensuring to make as little noise as I possibly can manage. Peeking over the edge, I can see the cell block gate. There are no Walkers… no rescuers… no Daryl. I am completely alone. This is good and bad.

My stomach growls, unnecessarily alerting me of my hunger and need to eat... as if I did not already know. I lick my dry lips, longing not only for some bread and meat, but also for water. Food you can go without for days. Water is another story. It's been almost a full day since I've had anything to drink and I can feel the dehydration building. Help may be on the way. Yet, I can't just sit back and wait. To survive, I have to fight and use my head. Staying here will keep me safe but it will eventually also mean my death if no help comes.

Listening, I can hear nothing. Again, it's good and bad. In my hand, I reposition the knife to stab-grip. No bullets mean that this knife is my only way of defending myself, except for running. I can always run, but I am losing energy fast. I can feel myself draining of strength and vitality. If they come at me, I will be slower than I was yesterday. Eventually, if I can't find my way out and locate the group and if I can't get liquids and nutrients in me, they will catch up to me and eat me… and turn me into one of them. If I do, I hope Daryl will find me right away and kill me. I don't want him to have to wonder, guess, and search, like with Sophia. He's never said, and now I might never hear him, but I know that he suffered while searching for her. I don't want him to suffer the same over my disappearance. To care for someone means to want the best for them, no matter the cost to oneself.

I remove the bungee cord with trembling fingers. They are out there and I am willingly stepping out of my safe hideout. It can very likely prove to be suicide. Yet, running my tongue over my dry lips tells me that staying locked up is equal suicide.

Making myself as invisible and inaudible as possible, I step out of the cell block and into the prison corridor. I almost died here yesterday. They were chasing me; dozens of them. The hunger for my flesh had been obvious in their movements and groans. Although they have removed themselves, I know from experience that they have not gone far. And then, there is more. There is always more… somewhere… close… hungry… always hungry.

Knife in right hand, edge pointed out and ready to stab, I inch down the hallway. My ears are alert, freezing my creeping whenever the slightest of noise is detected. Each corner is scanned, all new hallways checked, and every few seconds I throw a glance over my shoulder. The aching is completely, my whole body. It is because of sleeping on a cement floor, because my body is starving and parched, and because of the tension. Fear and terror has me, every part of me. But fear is a defense mechanism. It will keep me focused and guarded. It might be the only thing keeping me alive.

'_Alive… survive… live…'_

A clink, something hitting a pipe, spins me around and I stare down the hallway behind me. I hold, my breathing increasing in speed and in depth. With my knife erected, ready to stab and kill the already dead, I wait for the worst while hoping for the best.

'_Please, let my ears have deceived me. Please, let them all be gone. Please, let…'_

Moans echo and I react. Down the hallway, in the opposite direction, I run, as best as I can. They are coming, again, like they always do. I am not as fast as yesterday or as smooth. Yet, I run for I must. There is still desire in me to live. Despite the thirst, the hunger, and the loss of loved ones, there is still fight in me for a chance to one day die of old age. Die of natural causes after a full long life… with Daryl… with my children and grandchildren surrounding my death bed.

'_Dreams… they are foolish… yet necessary… to keep fighting… run, Carol, run…'_

Refusing to surrender to death, I run through a double door and down a thin hallway with cell doors lined on the right. Not looking down, but keeping my gaze straight ahead, I trip and fall hard onto the cement floor. Unable to restrain my tongue, I cry out in pain and the moans increases in excitement behind me. I scramble to my feet, pushing off the dead Walker laying face down against a cell door. My body is now shaking, pain mixing with the deprivation aching, yet I get ready to sprint forward.

Then, I see it. I had not heard it because of my focus on those trailing me. The Walker is but a few feet away. I manage to raise the knife but I know that it is not feasible. Scrambling for a way to survive, my eyes dart around the surfaces and fall on the blocked door. Stumbling, pulling, and struggling, I panic as I try to squeeze myself through the tiny sliver opening. The Walker come up behind me and slashes at my arm but I escape inside just in time. It pants through the crack, sniffing and tasting my scent. It wants to eat me.

'No… not me… not now… not ever…'

Determined, stronger than my body and mind should be in my state, I take the knife and position it with purpose. Through the thin opening, aiming and tightening my arm muscles, I stab and the edge sinks into flesh. The Walker falls backwards, tripping on the other one, and I withdraw from the door. Exhausted, with nothing left in me, I sink down on the bench and collapse.

Walkers, dragging by on rotting legs, move past the door unaware of my presence. I am too drained to care and if they would find me, they would find me pliable and without fight. My body and mind is slipping as the need for nourishment overtakes me. Memories, of times long-passed come at me but they are distorted with dreams of the future. I see Sophia, my beautiful daughter, sitting at our old breakfast table. In an apron, with flour on my nose and cheeks, I stand at the stove. Perfect pancakes, in the shapes of hearts just like Sophia liked them, are turning golden brown in a pan. I serve up the food on plates; eggs, bacon, pancakes, and toast. Steaming coffee is poured into cups and I bring it all to the table. It's my old table, my old kitchen, and my old home. At the table, sits my daughter. It is as it used to be, before the corpses began to walk. Yet, it is not all the same. Instead of a bastard, a coward and excuse of a man, sits someone honorable and kind. When I walk up to the table, it is not to my late swine of a husband that I serve a plate. It's to Daryl.

'_Daryl,'_ my mind floats and in my faded state I can almost smell and taste the heart shaped pancakes drenched in melted butter and syrup.


	6. Not a Walker of Hell, but an Angel of He

I am caught up. Yes!

Like it – Review. Should I keep writing?

Thanks, Birgitta

All rights belong to AMC

**6. Not Walker of Hell, but an Angel of Heaven**

We leave our cell block early in the morning, but not to search, only to kill. Rick returned. He has found Lori. He wouldn't say anything else and I didn't ask. None of us did. It was not mine or anyone else's place. I expect the same after I've found Carol. If I find her Walker and am forced to put an arrow into her, there better be no questions or demands for details. I just want to do it and then forget. Not forget her, the her with life in her eyes and laughter on her lips, but her the Walker.

Carl is coming with me and one of the prisoners, Oscar. He seems alright. Big guy, strong, and we have need for those. From what I've seen, and from what my gut is telling me, he is trustworthy. He might have been clueless a week back but he knows well enough now what is out there and that he's back chance of surviving is sticking with us. Yeah, he ain't dumb. We have need of those too.

We come across a hallway with cell doors. We've been down this way before and found nothing, but now one of the doors are moving. I give it a quick peek inside and see nothing. The door is also barely moving, so whatever is in there is nothing to worry about. At least not now. Maybe later, on our way back, I'll give the dying Walker inside peace.

Carl is walking next to me, dragging his feet lost in thought, and I whistle at him to come along. Able to read his need to talk, his need to get it out so he can grief, I share the story of my own mom's passing. It happened before this hell erupted. Her death could have been preventable, if she hadn't been a drunken fool. I guess I hadn't been surprised, no one had. Shame they said it was. Those poor boys, they had said, but no one was surprised.

I wonder sometimes how she would have fared, how she would have handled all of this. There hadn't been too much fight in her because of her constant wine buzz. But if she would have quit the wine and had to fight for her life, she might have been quite the Walker slayer. After all, I got it from somewhere and it sure as hell didn't come from pa.

"I shot my mom…"

Carl starts talking, telling me what happened, and I listen. He doesn't say much but he says what he needs to say, what he needs to get off his chest and conscious. It's what I had hoped for. He's a good kid, Carl. He is also a reliable group member and he will grow up to be a solid man who will one day lead the survivors, if there are any survivors. If I ever have a son, I'd like to think that he'd be something like Carl. One can wish, hope, and dream for such a blessing.

We keep moving forward, our flashlights sweeping over every inch, ensuring that the hallways are empty of Walkers. Once we reach a certain point, we turn back around. If nothing else, our stomachs tell us to go back. No matter the smells, the filth, the deaths, and the losses we encounter, our need to eat never fails. I suppose it is the one and only, luckily, thing we have in common with them; the never ending need to eat.

"What the hell do you need flippers for?"

Oscar has dove into a cell and we have followed him. He might be strong and trustworthy, but he is an odd one. Red checkered slippers in this place, dealing with…

It comes at us out of empty space. One moment we are alone, hallway swept and cleared. And then the next, a Walker is at my back. My bow comes up high and as always my arrow is loaded. I let one fly and the arrow hits it straight in the head just as bullets come at it. Down the Walker go and exhale, the rush creating a tingle all the way through me. I shine my light at it, ensuring that it's truly down, still not completely able to come to grips of how we missed it. It moved quietly, more quiet than they usually move.

Then, I see it. Slowly, I pull it out and blood gushes out of the neck wound. Someone has stabbed a knife into the Walkers neck in an effort to survive and escape.

"It's Carol's knife," I say, feeling Carl's eyes on me.

I wipe the blade off on the Walker's prisoner uniform while contemplating sticking it back into it's dead flesh, over and over again. It killed her. This thing killed my Carol. Did it eat her? Did it make her suffer? Did it tear into her as she screamed my name, begging for me to save her?

Not able to leave, I have Oscar take Carl back to the group. Leaning against the wall, with Carol's knife in hand, I take out my anger and pain on the floor and on the wall. My eyes are on the door, which is still moving. A thing is in there; a thing that only cares about killing and eating, a thing that should be dead, and a thing that deserves only to get put down. Not able to handle it anymore, I rise and kick in the moving door with all the force that I possess. I begin to walk away, thinking that I can, when the need to revenge Carol's death stop me. How can I walk away when this thing still exists? Why should it be allowed to continue, when Carol is gone? For Carol, I want to destroy them all. It won't bring her back… but still.

With Walker removed, I whip open the door, full of rage, with Carol's knife prepared to strike. But it is not a Walker of Hell I see, but an Angel of Heaven. I see my Carol. Carefully, I touch her face and her eyes open to see me. She is her, still her. My mind can't believe, can't trust, so I pick her up so that my mind can feel. She is in my arms.

'_I've got her… I've got her… my Carol.'_


	7. Screw Hesitation and Awkwardness

Not even one kiss; Shit! What kind of game is AMC playing with us? Ok, so I just had to change it up a bit. No more playing by AMC rules. Hope you don't mind.

Thanks, Birgitta

All rights belong to AMC

**7. Screw Hesitation and Awkwardness.**

I hate to leave her so soon. Seeing her standing there, with baby Judith in her arms, is making me feel… shit, I don't even know… never been very good with this feeling stuff. Before I leave, I should tell her what she means to me. While she was missing, when I thought she was dead, I would have done anything to see her again. I promised myself that if I found her alive, truly alive, I would show her. But now, with her here and us leaving, I just can't seem to do it. I mean, how do I say it? What do I do? Just lean in and kiss her, after what she has been through, with the baby in her arms, with everyone watching, and with us leaving… and possibly never coming back?

'_No,'_ I settle. _'Only a selfish and conceited ass would do something like that.'_

Growing up, I didn't see much affection. Sure, I saw and heard plenty but it wasn't love and affection. It was more grabbing, taking, and sometimes even forcing. My dad wasn't exactly loving and gentle. Being romantic for him was to be weak and let the woman rule you. He wouldn't have that for he was the man of the house and he told her what to do. If he wanted sex, she'd best lay down on her back and spread her legs. I'd guess this is why mom drank and maybe why she even died. Perhaps she knew exactly what she was doing that morning; drinking and smoking in bed.

"Stay safe," I urge, fear surging.

'_I hate to leave her… what if…'_

"Nine lives, remember," she smiles and fear is replaced by admiration.

She's tough, my Carol. She might not have started out that way but she is now. While most people are weakened by challenges and heartbreak, Carol has gained strength from them. An abusive ass of a husband, a zombie apocalypse, the death of her child, the loss of numerous friends, lost in a dark prison alone… it has made her fiercer, into a fighter, and someone I can rely on, respect, and want by my side. Yet, what makes her truly amazing and desirable is that her heart has not changed. Her heart is still as open and beautiful. She is still all woman and has a mother's touch. It is clear by the way she is holding Judith. With Lori gone, Carol will fill the role of a mother and no one could do it better. Rick can feel safe, as safe as you can in this hell, knowing that Carol is back with our family and she will take good care of his kids.

So, she is tough. She has proven that she can handle herself. But, I hate to leave her. There have been too many close calls.

'_Nine lives, remember?'_

Her words, just spoken, meant to take away the tension and lighten the mood. I don't feel lightened and there is still tension. Each step away from her is heavy and struggled. The car is waiting and soon we will be pulling away, away from the prison and away from her. I may never return. Or, there may be more close calls for her. All it will take is that one time when the call is too close and her extra lives have run out.

'I can't lose her… I can't go… at least not until…'

Before I change my mind, come up with a reason to not and to wait, I turn and rush back to her. With bow high and arrow loaded in one hand, the other hand wraps around her head and pulls her to me. I kiss her. I kiss her the way that I've dreamt and longed to do. I kiss her the way that she should have been kissed her whole life. I kiss her the way that I wish to continue to kiss her every day until there are no more days for us. I kiss her with desire, heat, and love… drawing it out, tasting her, and concentrating on remembering every single detail. While we are apart, I want to remember how her lips molded to mine, how her tongue felt, and how her available hand come up to grasp my triceps. If it wasn't for Judith in her arms, I would pull her close; close enough to feel every feminine curve.

'_Wanna screw around?'_

That night when she asked, I was embarrassed, awkward, and not sure of her sincerity so I shrug it off. However, I had just given her a massage and I had felt her responding. She had moaned and squirmed under my touch. If I had any game, any at all, I could probably have made her mine that night. The problem is that while I'm a master with the bow and my arrow is always loaded, I know nothing about women and pleasing them. I blame my pa and brother who either bought their way into a woman's bed or used forced. That's not me. I would never forced myself on anyone… especially not someone I care about… like Carol.

I separate my lips from hers and her eyes are wide as I pull away. Neither of us say anything. There is no need for words. Between us is a silent promise of more when… if…

'_No, I will return to you,'_ I promise as I get inside the car.

No matter what await us, who awaits us, I will return to her. I will keep my bow high and arrow loaded, kill every threat, until I am back by her side. And, when I do get back, there will be no more stumbling awkwardness. There will be her and I… forever… however long that may mean.

**Had to add a kiss. Hope you don't mind. New episode tonight. Yay!**


End file.
